Gemotions

The evening was cool, and Sarah stood in her kitchen, humming as she prepared dinner. The gentle clinking of silverware against the countertop was a pleasant symphony. The oak tree that had constantly dripped sap onto her car now lay across Mr. Peterson's yard.

Her shoulders relaxed as she surveyed the neatness of her kitchen. Every appliance gleamed, reflecting the soft glow of the overhead light. She glanced out the window, a small, barely visible smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She could park in her driveway now.

She reached for the pot and began to stir, feeling a pleasant warmth creep up from her chest.